Saying Goodbye
by TheSunriseSets
Summary: Shortly after DotD: Cynder brings herself to a heart-breaking decision; is she strong enough to let Spyro go? But most of all is Spyro strong enough—or willing enough—to let her go in the first place? One-Shot


**Synopsis: **Shortly after DotD: Cynder brings herself to a heart-breaking decision; is she strong enough to let Spyro go? But most of all is Spyro strong enough — or willing enough — to let her go in the first place? One-Shot

**A/N:** This came to me as a random inspiration. It's kind of stupid and random, I don't like it very much… but hey, what can I say, it's something to post — am I right? I am writing a full-length Spyro story (which is by far better). However, I won't be posting it until I'm finished, so I don't have to worry about writing updates. So, to get you Spyro-loving-people interested in my writing, I will be posting quite a few one-shots separately. Some may be related to my story, some might not, so don't hold your breath. Also, I am looking for a beta, because my grammar sucks monkey butt. Please if you are interested, I could _really _use your help. And yes, I know, this story sucks—truly sucks. I'm sorry about that.

If you like my writing, go ahead and put me at an author-alert or something, because I have quite a few works in this category coming out.

And to the suckish story

_**Saying Good-bye**_

**One-Shot**

**The sun was like** **fire **— red, warm, and bright — as it lowered into the west, slinking slowly, altering the colors around it. The clouds were light and billowy, swirled in amorphous patterns; many of them varied in color as the setting sphere took their influence. Far off into the distance, located at the crest of a hill, a lone figure lay sprawled on her side. Her eyes were open, though drifting, as she watched the setting sun with an almost dream-like expression. Her jaw was slack, and her crimson-wings splayed out shamelessly. She was a dragoness, no doubt. She sighed warmly, and small smile began at the curve of her muzzle.

She lifted her head suddenly, though merely slight, her smile still vivid. "Come to watch the scenery?" Her voice was also warm, though there was a hint of sarcasm — though just a bit.

"Maybe I did," another dragon said. He was just lowering from the sky, his wings splayed out. He flapped them once, leaned his form forwards a bit so he could catch the ground underneath his paws. He landed with and audible _thud_. Instead of ebony, his scales were violet; they shimmered in the light of the setting sun. The colors contrasted strangely, making him look slightly golden. He stepped forward, coming to stand before the black dragoness. "It's nice, isn't it?"

She shifted her weight and rolled to her belly, trying to give herself more of a formality. "What? The resting?" she asked, her brow puckering slightly in confusion.

He jerked his head to the left, before falling back on his haunches. With one forward movement he twitched his wings and rolled his shoulders.

"Then what?"

"The sun," he said, as if she should have known this all along. "The serenity of it — it's nice. Well at least _I _think so. I mean, how long _has_ it been since we were able to sit and just _enjoy _something."

"That's resting, too!" she exclaimed sarcastically, and he rolled his eyes. And then she looked down at her paws, regarding his question. She deliberated this for a moment, and then said: "Honestly, I don't think we've _ever _been able to sit and enjoy a sunset together." Her tail twitched, the scythe-tip of it cutting the blades a grass in its path in half. "I mean . . . not just a sunset, but we've never enjoyed anything — without having _some _sort of an interruption." Too late, the damage was done. She hoped he wouldn't notice the lapse in her words. They were subtle, but his honor was far from hers. She knew better than to pick off the higher element. He deserved better than her — far, far better.

The dragon nodded in harmony with her. "I know." He smiled softly. "I used to love sunsets when I was younger. I remember when Sparx and I would escape on one of our mini adventures"— he laughed at some memory —"and we would always go somewhere to watch the sunset before our parents would catch up to us."

She didn't know why, but the dragoness — as she always did — found the details of his past highly amusing. How rather than a dragon, he was brought up by a pair of dragonflies. And as always, she felt the soft pang of jealously, the small sense of resentment to him she felt when he talked of his past. It bothered her how he was raised with such love, such care, while she was raised with hatred and darkness. Though the thing she hated most fiercely, most potently, was not being able to share her past with him; _her_ young memories as a hatchling, as a maturing dragoness, and her own misguided adventurers to reaching enlightenment.

As usual, the dragoness shirked away from such a talk. Her eyes drifting back to the sun (which was lower now, almost slipping past the horizon); she sighed and shook her form nonchalantly.

The dragon caught on to this immediately, mentally scolding himself for bringing on such a topic. He, however, did not look away. He kept his eyes on her, eyeing her with what was almost a contrite expression. He felt for her, passionately, and hated to see her in pain — whether it was physical or not. Her pain was his. He had battled with her for far too long, been with her too long of a time, to be able to feel otherwise. They were in-sync. Two parts to one whole. Yin and Yang.

"Are you okay," he asked after a long silence. "I didn't mean to —"

"I'm fine." Her voice was abrupt as she replied, her head turning to glance swiftly at him. She wanted her point across. He had to know not to baby her any longer; she was strong enough to handle her own struggles herself. Her pain was her own.

Though the dragon continued to look at her suspiciously; her form was too tense for her to be merely _fine_. Something was wrong, he could feel it. "Cynder . . ."

The dragoness sighed, irked that this was still in-topic. "_I'm. Fine_." Each word was slowly emphasized.

He knew this was a lie but let it go. Her irritation was plain, and he wanted to keep the moment they had established. With one deciding thought, he changed the subject saying: "It's been some week, hu?"

The dragoness' head jerked around as looked at him curiously. "What?"

"I said, 'it's been some week.'"

"It has," she agreed, her suspicion still evident. "What are you getting at?"

His wings twitched and his smile went crooked. "I was just trying to change the subject," he admitted, timidly.

"Oh."

The two sat momentarily in an awkward silence, absentmindedly staring at each other. It was the dragon who broke it first.

"So, what do you think?" he asked the dragoness.

Her brow furrowed.

He sighed. "What should we do," he added.

"Oh," she said, glancing at the sun again. "I — I don't know about me, but you, you have to go back to the temple. They need you to help them start rebuilding the Dragon Realms."

The dragon stood up, kneading the ground with his claws apprehensively. "You wouldn't come?" he asked in hurt, confusion in his amethyst eyes.

The dragoness grimaced, the expression foreign on her pretty face. "I'm . . . not sure where I'm going to go." She shook her head. "But one thing's for sure, I'm _not _goingback to the temple. Perhaps Avalar will —"

"Will what?" The dragon was suddenly angry; he shifted away from her, his wings making one large beat around him. "What's in Avalar that's so great? What's wrong with staying here?"

The dragoness was confused with his tone. He was defensive against her leaving. Hadn't he had enough of her? The fight was over, and there was no tie (as in a snake-necklace) keeping them from going their own ways. She pondered briefly, and then something else occurred to her.

"Spyro?" she asked, pushing herself into a sitting position. Her tail twirled around her hind and came to rest in front of her where it twitched nervously.

"Hm?"

"You didn't . . .?" She paused, trying to figure her words, and then continued in a new direction. "Do you remember much, from the last fight with Malefor?"

The dragon looked at her, the jaw of his muzzle working wordlessly as he deliberated this. "Not much — it's mostly a blur, why?"

"Do you remember what I said?"

He grinned softly, though the corners promised the forming of a smirk. "Yes." He watched in confusion as her expression changed from carefully composed, to worried. "Is that a problem?"

It was. The dragoness stood now, backing away slightly. Her wings were as vivacious as her twitching tail, they moved around her body, constantly changing position from splayed, to tight at her side. She pivoted away from him on her hindquarters so she could compose her face. She knew this was going to be hard — she did feel for him, but he was much too honorable to be anything more to her. She didn't want his pity to be the reason he chose her out of the more honorable dragons out there. Like Ember for instance, she was perfect for him. The thought for some reason angered her. _He is nothing more_, she told herself even though it was moot. With another pivot she was back to looking at him, but his shocked expression shocked _her_ for a moment.

The dragon's expression was mingled; contradicted between worry and compassion. "Cynder?" he asked. The emotions were also in his voice.

"Spryo, what I told you"— she released the breath she had been holding —"I — I didn't mean it . . ."

The dragon thought over her words, confused. What was she talking about? She didn't mean what she said about staying with him? Did she think it was a mistake she stayed, rather than fleeing to safety? Was his presence truly distasteful to her? "I . . . don't understand."

The dragoness swallowed largely, her insides suddenly going hollow. "I thought I'd never see you again. I was scared that . . ." She shook the continuation of the sentence out of her mind. Already, the plan was going awry. She was supposed to be giving him up for his own good, not declaring herself. "You were my partner — my _battle _partner, nothing more. We have nothing binding us together, and it's time to go our separate ways. I do feel for you, and I _will _always be there for you . . . as your friend."

The dragon stood there in shock, hurt, pain, and most of all, confusion. He was almost inert, his tail even still as he stared at her wildly. Had she really been so attuned to him that she had picked up on the small fancy he held for her — though it was a fancy that had grown increasingly over time since he rescued her from the convexity — It was nothing truly noticeable. He thought he had composed himself quite well, even though the distraction of saving the world — again — had quite a resolving effect on his part, he still was shocked she had seen _through him_.

With one last attempt at convincing her not to leave — though he knew her mind was set — he said: "_I don't want you to go_."

The dragoness looked at him, her face still carefully composed in a mask of faux displeasure. She ignored the burning behind her eyes and refused to look away.

"Your place is here, at the temple. Mine however; I believe it's still out there somewhere." She shook her head, with one jerk. "I'm sorry."

"But Cynder . . ." he had started, but decided to cut himself off. The sense of déjà vu was truly unnerving; he already had this type of conversation with her, but the outcome had been far from par. He just didn't understand why she would want to leave so abruptly. Merely moments ago, they were at ease, utterly content, and now . . . she was _leaving _him for a cause he truly didn't know. There was no way she could have seen his fancy to her, even Sparx his _brother_ had not . . . but then . . . she was quite observant on her part. "Please . . . just don't go. You're my greatest friend."

Again, the dragoness ignored her reactions. This time though, it was chagrin. He was right, other than Ignitus — who was now dead — and Sparx, she was the only thing he had truly bonded with. Though she was sure he would find someone — Ember perhaps? — he probably wouldn't even notice her leaving. "I'm sorry."

"Cynder!"

She didn't say anything, turning her gaze back to the setting sun — which had pretty much disappeared beyond the hills now. Her eyes were dark pools of indignation as she stared at the crest of the hill, where the red-orange sun still loomed, where it winked at her, _beckoned _to her. Perhaps that's where she would head: west. Somewhere where then sun fell to every day, where someone could disappear to with the passing shadows of the fiery sphere, like darkness, like _her_.

But one thing was for sure: She could never return with him. With Spyro, the light of her soul. She loved him too much.

And as for Spyro, sometimes a broken heart wields too much misery to encompass reason.

Just as reason wields too much misery to encompass a broken heart.

"_Good-bye," _one of them said. But which one was masochistic enough to say it?


End file.
